One Last Kiss by Kat Martin

Chapter Seven

With Clara making preparations for the three-day pack trip coming up tomorrow, Sam had no choice but to drive Libby into Coffee Springs.

The small community, just a little over a block long, had a narrow redbrick post office at one end and Rocky Mountain Supply at the other, and a mercantile and gas station that serviced the area for miles around. The only other businesses were the Coffee Springs Café, the Elkhorn Bar and Grill, Murray’s Grocery, the Coffee Springs Bed and Breakfast, and Fred’s Gun Shop and Dentistry.

Sam helped Libby out of the truck, and they headed into the big metal building that housed the mercantile.

“Mornin’, Sam.” Fran Tilman, one of the employees, hurried over to help. A stout, older woman with silver hair cut in a bob, Fran knew everyone in town and was always full of gossip.

Just what Sam didn’t need.

“Morning, Fran.” He turned. “Fran, this is Libby Hale. She’s working at the ranch this summer. She needs a few things.”

Fran’s shrewd gaze went from him to Libby. “Always happy to help.” Meaning she was happy to get a chance for fresh gossip.

Fran smiled, and Libby smiled back. “We got just about anything you can think of,” Fran said. “What do you need?”

Libby glanced around the big open area that held everything from farm equipment to saddles and horse gear, along with racks of clothing, heavy winter jackets, and Western wear.

“I’ll leave you to your shopping,” Sam said, eager to escape. “I’ve got some errands. I won’t be gone long.” He started to leave, stopped and turned back. “I don’t think I mentioned there’s a lake in the mountains where we’re camping. If you don’t have a bathing suit, you can probably find one here.”

Libby’s smile widened, betraying the first real excitement he had seen. “A lake. That sounds great. Don’t worry, I’ve got my own suit. I never travel without one.”

Sam ground down on the image of Libby in a miniscule bikini, but his body ignored him and stirred to life. He managed to nod as he walked away. Maybe he should have let her skip the pack trip after all.

* * * *

Libby glanced around the dome-shaped metal structure, taking in the automotive supplies, bags of dry dog food, saddles, bridles, and RV equipment.

“I came to buy a disposable camera.” She thought of her cell phone with longing. “If they still make those things.”

Fran nodded wisely. “Fujifilm Instax Mini. They come in different colors. There’s a rack right over here.” The plump woman led the way and Libby followed.

“Which one’s the best?” she asked.

“Well, you can buy the camera bundle, which has some extra goodies, but it costs quite a bit more.”

“I’ll take it.”

Fran eyed her a little differently, plucked a pink plastic camera off the rack and handed it over. “So how did you come to be working on the ranch? Are you a long-time friend of Sam’s?”

“My uncle was a friend. He suggested I come up for the summer.”

“Maybe I knew him. What was his name?”

Libby was there because she had no choice, but the woman didn’t need to know that. “Uncle Martin only came for a couple of weeks. He passed a few months back.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” They started toward the register. “You said you have a swimsuit. Is there anything else I can show you?”

She looked over at the Western clothes. “Sam thinks I need a pair of cowboy boots.”

Fran grinned. “We have a big boot department. And you might want to look at some Western shirts or jeans. We just got in a new shipment. Oh, and we got some beautiful Montana Silversmith’s jewelry: earrings, belt buckles, bracelets, that kind of thing. You’re new here, but eventually, you’ll probably end up over at the Elkhorn Bar and Grill. They have dances there on the weekends.”

“They have a band?”

“Sure do. If you don’t know how to country dance, I’m sure Sam can teach you.”

The implication was clear, but Libby didn’t take the bait, just smiled and made no reply. She followed Fran over to the Western wear department, which immediately captured her interest.

By the time Libby walked out of the mercantile, she was carrying an armload of jeans, boots, shirts, Western tank tops, some pretty silver jewelry, and of course her Fujifilm Mini.

She set the bags down on the sidewalk and began to watch for Sam’s truck. Across the parking lot, she noticed Max and Vince’s blue Ford Fusion sitting in front of the gas pumps. Vince filled the tank while Max stood a few feet away, deep in conversation with a bearded man in jeans and a red flannel shirt. There were a few streaks of gray in his reddish-brown hair, and above the scraggly beard, a suntanned, weathered complexion.

Preoccupied, they didn’t seem to see her in an alcove near the front door. Vince finished pumping gas, and he and Max got into the car. Max started the engine while the bearded man took off around the side of the building and disappeared.

They sure didn’t look like fishermen, Libby thought, but then what did she know?

As the sedan drove away, Libby spotted Sam’s big Dodge truck pulling into the parking lot. Sam got out of the pickup, his eyes widening at the stack of packages at her feet.

“I knew I shouldn’t have stayed away so long.” He took the armload of bags and began loading them into the back of the truck. Libby tried not to notice the lean muscles shifting beneath his denim shirt, or the way his behind, outlined by faded butter-soft jeans, flexed and tightened with his every move.

The lift in her stomach surprised her. She hadn’t felt the least desire for a man in...well, years. She’d just been burned too often. But Sam was different. Nothing like the men she used to date in the city.

Or at least that was the way he seemed. Maybe it was all just an act, a way to get her to let down her guard. It had happened before.

“Time to go,” Sam said, snapping her out of her dismal thoughts.

Libby climbed into the truck and buckled her seat belt. Tomorrow she was going on a camping trip in the mountains. A memory stirred, her dad promising to take her on an overnight camping trip with two of her girlfriends. He and her mom had been killed the week before they were supposed to leave.

Sadness rose inside her. Libby took a deep breath and forced it away. She thought again of the pack trip and instead of dread felt an unexpected surge of anticipation. Maybe a camping trip into the Rocky Mountains wouldn’t be all that bad.

Then she remembered she was a city girl used to five-star hotels and three-star Michelin restaurants. Not a sleeping bag on the ground and no bathrooms.

She grimaced. More likely, it would be exactly as bad as she imagined.

* * * *

Sam awoke to a sound in the night. He felt restless and uneasy, probably because he had so much on his mind. Tomorrow they would be heading out, packing into the high country. The guests were all excited. Even Libby’s attitude had improved. She was ready to go, she’d told him at supper—after Clara had volunteered to take care of the kittens while she was away.

Libby trusted Clara. Sam was pretty sure she didn’t trust him. Or any other man for that matter.

He wondered again who was responsible for hurting her and found himself wishing he could land a punch in the city-boy’s face.

Unable to sleep, he climbed out of bed, pulled on his jeans, and started down the hall toward the kitchen for a glass of milk.

A noise sounded at the other end of the hall, and he turned to see a faint light coming from under Libby’s door. Knowing he should just keep walking, instead he padded back the way he’d come and kept going till he reached her room. Hearing what sounded like crying from the other side of the door, he knocked gently.

“Libby? Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” she said, but her voice sounded shaky and a notch too high.

Sam opened the door, peered into the dimly lit bedroom, and saw Libby sitting on the bed, holding one of the kittens against her chest. Tears streaked down her cheeks.

She looked up at him, and her lips trembled. “He’s dead, Sam.” She swallowed. “He was the smallest, so I named...named him Tiny. I couldn’t get him to eat, and now...now he’s dead.”

Sam felt a tug in his heart. He sat down on the bed beside her. “It’s not your fault. You knew it could happen when you brought the kittens up here. He was just too little to survive.”

She wiped a tear from her cheek. “I know.”

Sam gently took the miniscule gray body from her hands, went into the bathroom and grabbed a hand towel, wrapped up the kitten, and carried it downstairs to the mud room. He’d bury it in the morning. In the meantime, he needed to get back to Libby.

He found her just where he’d left her, sitting on the edge of the bed in her shorty nightgown. Thank God it was cotton and not transparent, though he could clearly make out the soft swells of her breasts. He managed to keep his mind out of the gutter and tamp down any forbidden thoughts.

The bad news was she was still crying. Sam returned to his place beside her.

“It’s all right, honey. Sometimes bad things happen. You did the best you could.”

She looked up at him with big, tear-filled blue eyes. “Why does everything I love have to die? My parents, Uncle Marty. Now Tiny is dead.” She sobbed, bent over double, and started crying even harder.

This wasn’t just about the kitten, he realized. This was about her parents and Marty and the grief she had managed to keep bottled up until now. He hadn’t meant to touch her, but somehow she was in his lap and sobbing against his shoulder.

“It’s okay.” He gently smoothed a hand down her back. “Just let yourself go.”

Libby’s arms went around his neck, and she clung to him, her body shaking with the force of her tears. He was bare-chested, and he could feel the dampness on his skin. Sam let her cry until her tears turned to hiccups and she finally relaxed against him.

“You okay?” he asked, brushing pale damp strands from her cheeks.

She nodded but didn’t let go. Instead, she drew a little away, looked up at him and pressed a soft kiss on his lips.

For an instant, Sam went still. God help him, so far he had managed to stay away from her, but with her body so warm and feminine against his, nothing could hold him back now. His mouth claimed hers, and the soft kiss deepened into something more, something hot and fierce.

Libby made a sound in her throat, urging him to take the hot kiss even deeper. Tangling his hands in her hair to hold her in place, Sam ravaged her mouth, taking everything she offered, giving her what she wanted in return.

“Libby,” he whispered, forcing himself to slow down. “If we don’t stop, I’m going to want more. In the morning you’ll regret it.”

“I need you, Sam,” she said, kissing him until he groaned. Her waist was tiny before it flared into a pair of womanly hips. Her breasts felt soft and full against his bare chest.

He eased down the bodice of her nightgown and found that each perfect breast exactly filled his palms. Her skin was smooth as silk, the small tips as hard as berries. He yearned to take them into his mouth and taste the sweetness.

God, he wanted her. Ached to bury himself inside her.

He kissed the corners of her mouth, her nose, her eyes, tasted the wetness of her tears, and felt a sharp pang in his chest that finally pierced his conscience. His heart was hammering, the arousal beneath his fly hard as stone.

Sam released a shaky breath. “Libby...honey. I can’t do this.”

She looked up at him, her eyes glazed with passion.

“Your uncle was my friend. I can’t betray his trust.”

She just stared. “I know you want me,” she said. “Men always want me.”

His chest tightened. “I want you. I won’t lie about it. But this isn’t what Marty had in mind for you.”

She stiffened, pulled up her nightgown, slid off his lap, and turned to face him. “I don’t care what my uncle had in mind. He’s gone. He’s dead, just like everyone else. I’m my own person now. Uncle Marty doesn’t control my life anymore.”

“Libby...”

“Get out, Sam. Go away and leave me alone.”

He didn’t want to go. He wanted to hold her again, pick up where they’d left off. He rose from the bed and started for the door.

“I probably would have disappointed you anyway,” she said softly from behind him. “I’m not very good at sex.”

Sam turned and walked back to her. Leaning down, he cupped her face in his hands. “You don’t have to be good at it, Libby. You just have to be with the right man.” He kissed her softly one last time. Sam warned himself not to say the words but couldn’t seem to stop himself. “This isn’t over. We’ll have time to figure things out.”

Turning away before he could change his mind and show her exactly how good sex between them could be, Sam opened the door and walked out of the bedroom.